


Come Down Here and Face Me Like A... (Spider)-Man?

by theunremarkable



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Family Fluff, Iron Dad, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theunremarkable/pseuds/theunremarkable
Summary: The Avengers coming home to Tony berating himself was not an unusual occurrence.  This time... was a little different.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 9
Kudos: 417





	Come Down Here and Face Me Like A... (Spider)-Man?

**Author's Note:**

> This is slightly average but I wanted to get this idea out of my head and warm up my writing before diving into the rest of the stories I have planned!

The elevator doors slid open with a small ‘ding’ to display the familiar hallway of the Compound. It had been a while since Steve, Nat and Clint had set foot in the compound, but something about it still felt like home. A feeling that was reinforced by the familiar dulcet tones of Tony Stark, which seemed to be steadily increasing in volume.

“Are you - Are you KIDDING ME, Underoos?” Tony bellowed.

It was the inaudible reply that rose Steve’s eyebrows up his head a little further. He motioned for Clint and Nat to follow to the source of the commotion towards the lone silhouette standing in the doorway of the lounge area. Whilst Tony’s outbursts weren’t uncommon, unless he had truly and finally lost his mind, he didn’t usually answer back. They wandered down the hallway towards the figure Steve first assumed to be Tony’s, but soon realised to be Bruce Banner’s. He went to greet his friend, but stopped quickly at the sight of Bruce’s dropped jaw. All three newcomers followed his line of sight to the middle of the room, ears pricking up as Tony continued. 

“You know the rules. You agreed to the rules. And yet, time and time again, I find you disobeying them.”

“I technically didn’t disobey them, sir, I just like, followed them loosely?” A meek voice said from above. A sound that Tony either didn’t hear, or chose to ignore. The bulging vein on the side of his head suggested the latter.

“Rule number one," Tony continued. "You come to me if you get hurt. No ifs, no buts, I don’t care if it's a damn paper cut. Which part of that rule did you ‘loosely’ follow? The complete and blatant ignorance of informing me? Rule number three involves a curfew. Which you decided to loosely follow by what, oh, 4 hours? On a school night? To make matters worse, I find out that you overrode my protocols, AGAIN, might I add, that's rule number three, to hide some, what did Karen call it? ‘Mild blood loss’. Care to explain how a child comes to experience mild blood loss?”

The child, who appeared to be more in the teenage era of his childhood, in question pressed his lips into a line and shook his head fervently.

“Come down here and face me like a man.”

“I thought you said I was a child?”

“And yet you insist on calling yourself a man. So buck up and get down, I want to look into your eyes as I yell at you so I can see that maybe, finally, that the message has sunk in.”

The one called Peter stood up quickly, and it was only then that Steve’s brain caught up to the scene before him. Peter certainly had stood up quickly, meaning that his feet stayed planted on the ceiling as he straightened out, swinging with the motion, coming face to face with Tony who stumbled back slightly. That was not what he was expecting.

“Very cute, kid. I’d be careful if I were you, I’m adding to your long list of punishments.”

“I don’t need to be punished, Mr Stark!” Peter cried, throwing his hands up. Or was it down?

Tony scoffed.

“I don’t! I got hurt, isn’t that punishment enough? Besides, you can’t even punish me, you’re… you’re not my dad!”

“Wanna bet?”

“You know I don’t have any money - hey, Mr Stark, can I borrow some money?” Peter said, grinning cheekily.

“Very funny. No you can’t and yes I can. Because your aunt decided to punish me with 13 very long winded voicemails about how, for a genius, I am actually quite incredibly stupid, the things she’s going to do to me when she sees me and the things she’s going to do to my reputation in the meantime. So now you get to take the fall for that. I'm too pretty to be this stressed.”

Peter gasped. “She called you? I didn’t even - I swear Mr Stark, it was only a light stabbing, it missed all my important bits, and I even managed to get most of the blood out of the carpet -”

“YOU WERE STABBED?!”

“Please don’t take my suit away.” Peter said quietly in contrast, as he crouched down, or up, to hug his knees to his chest.

“You know it bud. Now stop pouting and get off the ceiling before Pepper makes you clean shoe marks off as well as the blood you conveniently mentioned. And I can tell you the rest of your punishment without putting my neck out. God, maybe I'm getting old,” he mumbled.

“I’m not pouting,” Peter said even smaller, as he flipped his hood over his head and tightened the laces so only his nose was visible. 

“Yes you are.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Peter Pout-er. Sulker-Man. A Spectacular Sulker-Man. Queens Friendly-Neighbourhood Thrower of Tantrums.”

At that, Peter squeaked and Tony had no choice but to burst out laughing at the incredulous scene.

“FRIDAY, take a picture of this. Keep it as a 21st, or blackmail, I’m undecided right now.” He said, chuckling in between words.

Steve cleared his throat.

Tony whirled to face his guests as Peter’s face appeared instantly from his hood. He flipped the right way up, holding onto the ceiling with one hand before lightly dropping to his feet before the Avengers in front of him.

“Aw, crap.”


End file.
